


Left Unsaid

by big_brother_wrath



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Funhaus Fam Feels, Gen, Spoole's Last Night, there's some speake but not enough to warrant a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 12:43:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6006514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/big_brother_wrath/pseuds/big_brother_wrath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eight nerds on the eve of becoming seven. Go chase your dreams Spoole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Left Unsaid

This was how things would be remembered. With all eight of them piled on top of one another while a Netflix movie streamed in the background on a laptop someone had brought to the send off party. While it would have been in the Funhaus spirit to have thrown an extravagant balls to the wall party featuring the return of Bruce the Stripper, it was in the family spirit to step into Spoole’s apartment one last time with fresh produce and the intent to spend the night with each other.

Elyse, Matt, and Joel have conquered the kitchen and the apartment smell more homely than it ever has before. Spoole has spent a good portion of his “party” sitting at the shoddy IKEA dining table, simply bathing in the scent of  home in a place that never truly felt like a home. The smell of spices, bubbling soup, and the oven beeping from occasion to occasion makes Spoole’s heart hurt in a bittersweet way. LA is not his home, it never will be. Home is back in Washington with his supportive parents and cousins he hasn’t seen in seven years.

Sean’s green eyes sweep the kitchen one more time, landing on Elyse as she expertly dices greens while her hips sway to the music Lawrence is playing in the living room a step over. Her elegant blonde hair is tied back from her face in an sloppy yet suiting bun and there’s a sort of concentration in her eyes that Spoole rarely sees. It’s like she’s trying to convince him to stay with effort and cooking alone. Occasionally she steps away from prepping things to stir a pot that Joel isn’t keeping an eye on. And from there, Joel sips some of its contents before pulling Matt over from his cooking and make him taste it. Matt grins and gives a thumbs up and returns to his task.

Dinner is a melting pot of everyone’s favorite dishes. There are meatballs that Joel’s great-grandmother had passed on with the Rubin name that pair well with the pasta dripping with thick globs of cheese, a dish Elyse had pioneered herself. Matt introduces the Funhaus crew to his chicken from an Open Haus none of them can number. It tastes good nonetheless and as everyone’s chatter fills the kitchen, Sean can’t help but stare at his plate. There isn’t a single empty space on it, every part of the surface is lathered with some form of love from his friends, family really.

“Spoole, you okay?” Lawrence asks from across and the chatter eventually dies until all attention is focused on him. Spoole feels his cheeks grow hot with emotion as he meets every individual’s eyes, jumping from the startling blue of James to the wise brown of Adam. And for this moment, he feels at home. He feels like he’s lived happily in LA for ages with Bruce as his firm but fair father and Joel as his wine mom.

“Sean, don’t cry.”

Adam’s words drive through the cloud in his mind and Spoole gently touches his face, afraid if he moves too quickly this moment will be shattered. There are fat tears rolling down his face, blurring his vision of the faces he won’t see after today. He would wipe the tears away but his arms feel like lead. His entire body feels slow and tired and something inside of him realizes it doesn’t wanna leave.

A napkin slowly drags along his face to wipe the tears for him and Sean allows a cool hand to turn his face so they can get all of his mess. Sean sniffles and closes his eyes, squeezing the last of his tears out before slowly opening them. He sees Matt’s face with a wadded napkin in one of his hands, the other still gently holding his damp cheek. Those brown eyes glitter with worry and when Spoole pulls away to look at everyone else, they mirror his expression.

“I’m… I’m gonna miss you guys,” Sean whispers, hating how weak his voice sounds. His throat feels swollen, like there are a million layers of cobwebs catching his words and sifting through them until what could’ve been a great speech is reduced to a single honest sentence. Everything feels like it’s moving through a thick sludge, like time isn’t real and this moment will live in an infinite loop.

His Adam’s apple bobs as another emotion wells up into his throat, pushing words through the thick webbing until his lips part and he sucks in a shaky breath that hisses between his teeth. Everyone waits with bated breath, even James who would’ve swooped in to save the moment with his impeccable ad lib skills.

“I love you guys,” Sean whispers and every fiber of his being pauses from the internal war of uncertainty and regret. Time stops, Spoole is sure it does. Time freezes the LA sun where it sets, letting it bathe the kitchen in an ocean of yellows and oranges. The smoke from the food seizes its hypnotic dance into obscurity and the living room dies to a silence that is deafening.

Sean never thought he would live to see the day the Funhaus crew was so quiet, a pin could drop and the sound would be an uproar.

A chair scrapes against the floor as Adam stands up. Sean’s eyes follow him, all eyes are trained on the man as he lumbers around the table before settling behind Spoole’s chair. Thick arms wrap around the little one’s tiny shoulders, encasing him in a cocoon of warmth and undying love. Spoole lets Adam hold him before Kovic slowly helps him onto his feet. There, Adam hugs him again, so tightly that Sean is sure he can feels his shoulders cracking in the most satisfying of ways. The hug is warm and Spoole wraps his thin arms around Adam’s chest, squeezing tenderly before he buries his face into his shoulder.

Multiple chairs scrape against the flooring and suddenly, Sean can smell more than just Adam’s natural musk. There’s Elyse, with her dainty hands holding his chest together. It’s like she’s keeping his heart from spilling out, like she knows there’s tidal waves of emotions smashing against his rib cage and gushing through the cracks and her place in the world is right here, keeping it all inside of Sean. James is covering his right, thick arms squeezing the Spoole sandwich together and being the glue that binds them together forever. Joel and Matt take his left, Joel pressing close to his ear and whispering the sweetest of words that promise Sean all of Funhaus loves him too and they would rather die before letting him live another unhappy day in Los Angeles.  Matt’s hand is a firm anchor to reality but even Sean can feel how sad he is. The hand on his back is fisting the material of his shirt tightly, keeping him in touch with the present but also begging him not to leave, not to remove the sweet ball of sunshine that did loop-de-loops around the office. Lawrence is right behind Adam, forehead resting against the top of Spoole’s head as his Boom Crew teammate sobs into Adam’s shirt. And finally Bruce, the father that looks over them all. He finishes Sean’s cocoon by draping himself over the ball, resting his chin on the pyramid of soft locks that vary in length. God knows nothing will get to them with Bruce looking after them all, all threats would be annihilated before they would even be aware of it.

They stay like that for a few minutes, letting time slowly awaken from its rut and tick on. The sun sets outside, leaving the kitchen dark except for the lights from the stove and the candles on the table. James had insisted they create an atmosphere because Spoole _is our baby boy, we gotta show him a good time before he leaves us for dust!_

Dinner is finished, as much as they can finish it. Adam takes all the paper plates and tosses them into the white trashbag hanging from the cupboard underneath the sink. All personal dishes are washed and set aside for when they all leave tomorrow morning. Leftovers are divvied up amongst them but it’s an unspoken rule that Sean gets the most, a little something to remember them by when he arrives in Washington.

Bruce disappears to the entryway before returning with a thick bundle of blankets, laying them out onto the empty living room until there’s a thick padded rectangle that just might fit eight bodies. Pillows are distributed onto the platform and Lawrence digs out the biggest laptop they have, the screen measuring to seventeen, almost eighteen inches. Everyone changes into their pajamas as Sean is given control over the night’s program. There isn’t much to choose from, nothing really catches his eye so he leaves it up to random.

Once everyone is tucked in, Sean clicks play and the beginning for a Korean drama starts playing. Joel voices a protest but by the time the first episode is done, everyone is enraptured. Joel is the one to press for episode two.

This was how things would be remembered. With all eight of them piled on top of one another, bellies swollen with home cooked food and minds slowly fading away as sleep claims them one by one. By the end, it’s only Matt and Sean, both pressed against each other’s side as their friends snore peacefully away. Sean doesn’t wanna reach for the laptop to ask for episode twenty something and when Matt reaches over, he quickly grunts to signal that he’s done and ready to sleep. Matt’s arm retreats back under the merch blanket and he turns to look at Spoole.

There’s a beat of silence between them, the pair pressed close enough they could be sharing air with each other. Sean sucks in a breath as Matt exhales and he briefly remembers something his mother taught him when he was a child. Something along the lines of people breathing out fragments of their souls whenever they exhaled and that explained why friends acted like one another, because they had mixtures of each other’s souls residing in the walls of their lungs.

Spoole wants to breath as much of Matt’s soul in as he can, wants to inherit that wisdom and humbleness people on the Internet praise him for. So he does. The youngest scoots closer to Matt and ignores the curious eyebrow. He listens and whenever Matt exhales, he inhales. He listens to Matt’s chest stretch and shrink, not wanting to meet the man’s eyes and have to explain himself. It evens out after an hour of listening and Spoole realizes he’s the only one awake now.

_This is ironic_ he thinks as he turns onto his back, exhaling his soul into the room.

_How so?_

Sean tries to reason how the situation is ironic but for the life of him, he can’t remember what irony means. Maybe this situation is symbolic, with him being singled out and him leaving tomorrow morning.

He’s so focused, Spoole doesn’t even notice when sleep sneaks up to him and gently takes his hand. He’s guided into a dreamless slumber.

* * *

“I’m gonna miss this place,” Spoole mumbles as he walks through the bare apartment, gathering trash he left behind when he first moved all the big items out of the way. The walls are deserted, not a single picture on them anymore. The only remnants of his time here is the IKEA dining table and the holes where nails used to be.

Everyone is waiting for him outside, deciding to give Sean a moment to himself. As he walks out, Sean walks through a narrow hallway that leads to his door. There are holes littering the walls and rectangles of bright paint against their faded counterparts. Pictures of Attack of the Show, ETC News, Inside Gaming, and now Funhaus have been stored for safekeeping. They’ll be the first thing hung up when Sean finds a new apartment.

The keys to his apartment are handed in and all that’s left is to send Sean off in his U-Haul packed with memories. Eight people crowd around the driver’s side of a white truck and all of them are ready for this moment. Ready in various degrees. Sean has been ready to leave since he made his decision last week but Joel isn’t quite ready to see the company’s baby boy leave.

“Well guys… thanks for everything,” Spoole says, meeting their eyes for what may be the last time, at least for a while. They each get their good bye hug and Bruce clings to Spoole when it’s his turn.

“If it doesn’t work out up there, you know where you can come. You’ll always be welcome back here,” he whispers, voice shaky as emotion begins to permeate through his words. Spoole nods, ruffling the fabric of Bruce’s jacket. Fingers tighten on his back, fisting the thin material of Spoole’s shirt. It’s like a last second beg and Sean quietly asks God for enough power to chase after his own happiness instead of giving that up and living in LA.

“Bruce,” Matt mumbles and the man regretfully steps away, turning his head down so no one can see the dark flush on his cheeks and the tears in his eyes. There’s a quiet “don’t leave” tingling on his fingers and Bruce wants to hold Spoole again.

Matt steps up for his good bye and Sean meets him with wide open arms. The two youngest Hausmates hold each other tightly and when they part it isn’t for long. Matt’s arms are still around Sean’s shoulders and Spoole rests his forehead against Matt’s.

“You should text me when you get there,” Peake whispers and Sean nods, sniffling as his eyes become glassy with tears. Matt’s thick hands cup his face and wipe the beginnings of his teardrops just like he had last night. They stare at each other for a moment longer before Peake steps back and gives Spoole’s shoulder a friendly and encouraging pat.

As Sean drives out of the parking lot, he realizes a few things.

One: There’s a wonderful sense of liberation in his stomach but there’s a stone of longing resting in his stomach as well. He’ll miss his LA family, he’s sure he’ll miss them so much. But now he’s off to another chapter on his life where he’ll be surrounded by the people who support him and people who haven’t seen him in seven years. He’ll be with the nieces and nephews who haven’t heard of Uncle Sean just yet and with the dogs that are excited to greet a new master into their lives.

Two: Funhaus is eventually going to find the hat he left on Adam’s desk and hopefully they’ll place it somewhere or greet the next member of Funhaus with it. Here, wear this hat and legally change your name to Sean Poole.

Three: In his lifetime, he’s found a million ways to say “I love you.” It’s cheesy, but it’s true. Saying the words work but there are other words, other actions that serve the same purpose. Like giving over a bottle of your favorite wine as a parting gift or commissioning your favorite artist to draw a goodbye print. Like “I’ll never forget you work husband!” or “Come back to me baby boy, I promise I won’t bench you anymore.”

Or “You should text me when you get there.”

* * *

 To Matt /\: Hey. I’m there.

Deleted Text To Sean: Come back.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! I'm almost sorry but I'm happy to have Sean go chase his dreams and find what makes him happy. If LA isn't happiness, then he's free to go find the light to his mornings. 
> 
> Gimme your thoughts and feel free to send me prompts, feedback, tears over on tumblr at sarcasmrights. Catch you on the flip side!


End file.
